


"Exchange your guns for fists, and fight."

by Allamazingfandomsarenotonfire



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Blurryface, Broken Promises, Depression, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insomnia, M/M, Sad, Suicidal Thoughts, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allamazingfandomsarenotonfire/pseuds/Allamazingfandomsarenotonfire
Summary: Josh is deeply in love with Tyler.Josh and Tyler's parents are trying so hard to get him help.Blurryface is at it again, and Tyler hits rock bottom.With a little push and some support, will Tyler finally be able to dig his way out and survive? (*Loosely?* based off of guns for hands by twenty one pilots, at least my interpretation of it haha)





	

**Josh's POV**

Im really worried about Tyler.

He's been caught up in music more than anything else. He keeps forgetting to eat. Sometimes he doesn't even leave his bed, he just lays and writes. The only time he really applies himself to something other than writing is when he's playing. I'm not even the only person who's worried, his parents are terrified.

He's been staying with them lately because his situation is getting really bad. He comes and visits when he gets out of bed, but that's rarely.

Hopefully I get to see him again soon.

*******

**Tyler's POV**

I woke up to the sunlight burning through my curtains. I reach to pull my blanket off to get up and close the blinds, but once my arm brushed it I winced. I look down to see crimson stains all over my sheets, arm, blanket, and pillow. Then, I remember how my night went:

The voice stopped talking... They started to scream. They wouldn't shut up. The only way to relieve it.. 

Well, you know what I'm about to say.

 _What have I done?_ I thought as I looked around me.

Fresh wounds scattered from my hand to my elbow.

My mind went ballistic. It went to a dark place, and destroyed the body it controls to give itself some benefit.

 _About an hour of desperately needed sleep_.

"Tyler. We need to talk." My parents cracked open my door to my room. I knew this was coming. I sat up and pulled my covers up to my elbows.

"Soooo what's up?" I ask as casual as possible as they both sat on either side of my bed, facing me.

"What's wrong, dear?" My mom asked as she set her hand gently on my knee.

"I don't know what you mean-" I chuckled and refused eye contact.

"Tyler, we're just-"

"Tyler? What happened to your arm??" My mom cut my dad off.

I looked down and saw the cover had slipped a few centimeters down, exposing a few red lines.

"Tyler..."

"I- I um.."

"We need to get you help." My dad shook his head.

"We'll go call the doctor-"

"No!" I reached my arms out, telling them to stop.

"Please... Please don't"

"Honey, you're hurting yourself. You need to get better-"

"I will! I swear!" I shouted desperately. "Just  _please_ don't put me away. It will never happen again, okay? _I swear.."_

"Okay, Tyler. Okay. We won't call."

"Thank you."

"We love you, Tyler. Remember that."

"I love you too."

And they shut the door behind them. 

_There was no way I was giving up my only chance at sleep and relief._

_I know what that means._

_I just have to hide it better._

*******

I can't sleep.

I can't stop breaking my promise to my parents, and I feel awful.

I can't stop thinking about my fans.

Not even just my fans, _everyone_ out there who lives every day in misery. Misery that no one understands.

I can't stop thinking about how they all need help, and I can't help each individual.

I can't stop thinking about how dangerous to themselves they are. How their own lives are in their hands, and if they wanted to, they could just end it. They're all dangerous weapons, without any safety gear or protection. 

I can't stop thinking about how many of those people have already self destructed.

_And how I could have stopped them._

********

**Joshs POV**

I woke up to banging at my front door.

"3:36? Who the hell knocks this damn early?" I groaned as I lazily got up. I threw on a shirt and scratched my chest and I swung the door open, instantly fully awake.

"Tyler?" I asked the sobbing mess in my front porch.

"Jo- I" He couldn't even get words out between his choking sobs. He collapsed forward into my arms, soaking my fresh shirt in tears and drool.

"Tyler? Hey, baby what's wrong?" I don't even know why I asked. I know exactly what's wrong.

"I- don't- w-want- to- b-be- alive any m-more" he choked out.

I felt pain in my chest when hs said that. I brought him in and sat on the couch with him curled up in my lap.

"I w-want to d-die" He sobbed.

"Shh, hold on. Baby, calm down. We need to take this one second at a time. Why do you feel this way?"

"I d-don't know.. I just feel s-so awful."

"Is it.. Is it blurryface?" I said quietly.

He looked up at me fearfully, then nodded.

"Oh no.." I whispered. Blurryface is when it gets the worst.

I saw his arm peaking from under his sleeve. My heart broke into a million pieces.

"Breathe. Tyler, breathe. Breathe with me." I took a deep breath in my nose, and out my mouth. He attempted to copy me, but he choked and couldn't get a pace down.

"Listen to my heartbeat." I gently laid his head down on my chest. It always seems to help him calm down. "Breathe." We both began to breathe in sync. _In, out. In, out._ Eventually, I got him to calm. 

"Tyler." I sighed. "There's hope out there. Somewhere, there is a place that can help you. I'm beginning to feel like I cant-"

"Please.. don't. My parents are trying to send me away, too."

"Baby, I don't want to send you away. Thats not at all what I'm trying to do. I just feel like you can go and find other people like you, and you can help each other."

"People like me?" He sounded a bit hurt.

"That's not what I mean, Ty. I mean other people that feel the way you do, like a support group of some sort. Whether it's at a clinic, or with our fans."

"I don't know..."

"Ty. You need this. That's what we'll do, ok? I'll be there. Always. You have to do this, or you'll never understand how many people out there are like you in this way. How many people you can join hands with and help one another. You'll never understand that there  _is_  hope for you."

He just nodded.

******

He finally agreed to a support group, but with his fans.

At meet and greets, if any of them admitted to these awful feelings and thoughts, he'd let them vent. He finally came to accept that he's  _not_ the only person who feels the way he does, and he convinced his fans the same thing.

This all inspired him to write a new song.

"Let's get real for a moment.." And the crowd most instantly went quiet.

They always love hearing his thoughts.

Almost as much as I do.

"We've all picked up a gun instead of fighting, you know?" He began. "We've all given up on trying to beat our demons and conquer our nightmares. We all gave up and picked up a gun. We all decided that it was easier to end it all, I know that now. I've talked to a lot of you about these things, so just know you're  _definitely_ not alone in this. Especially in this crowd. Now, I must forewarn you of my illness. My disorder, or condition if you will. I've been, and sort of still am, in your shoes. Every night all I wanted was to put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. I fell into a hole of nothing but thoughts of how easy it would be Just to take my own life. Just know there's a way out."

He smiled over at me.

"I know now that I can get help. There's hope. Yes, there are days where it's just as awful as it was before, but it's not every day. And that's progress. There are so many people out there that don't ever get the help they need. I see so many of you out there agreeing to what I'm saying." I points out and skims his finger around the room.

"I see so many of you hurting the way I did. How this disease has you fused to it by the most dangerous part of you, beside your mind. The things that carry what you use to hurt yourself. The things that hold what you want to take your life with; your wrists. If it was my choice, I'd say take it all out on me, not yourselves." He held his arms out to expose his chest. "Aim here. Hurt me, not you." He grabbed the mic off the stand. "But, an even better solution is to get help. It's best if you put down the gun and get in a fighting stance. Exchange your guns for fists, and fight.

Your lives are special. Each and every one of them.

There are so many people that are happy you were given a life.

So please, don't take it."

And with that, the lights dimmed.

The crowd erupted in cheers and sobs.

They chanted his name, and I looked over at him.

He was so happy. Standing so tall.

He went from below rock bottom to the top of the world.

The crowd soon quieted down when they heard a cowbell.

This all was where our newest song was born,

Called  ** _Guns For Hands._**


End file.
